


Milk

by consultingshipper



Category: BBC Sherlock, Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-21
Updated: 2012-05-21
Packaged: 2017-11-05 18:44:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/409765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/consultingshipper/pseuds/consultingshipper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Sherlock are having a domestic, to which Scotland Yard will be forced to bear witness. Quite fluffy I suppose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It had all started last Thursday when Sherlock had 'forgotten' to go buy some milk whilst John was at work. It had gotten worse when Sherlock had out right refused to go buy the milk when John's leg was feeling particularly unsteady on the Friday. Now on Saturday they were both short tempered due to lack of tea, and Lestrade had just called them in on a case. John had been enjoying a nice lie in, even managing to ignore his annoyance with Sherlock and just enjoy the heat radiating from the body to his right, then that blasted phone had gone off and John was pissed.

Sherlock remained blissfully unaware in his state of sleep, while the annoying chime continued.

"Sherlock," John mumbled "answer the damn phone."

Sherlock shifted slightly, but his breathing remained even. John nudged him. He still didn't stir.

"Sherlock," John said more firmly, pushing against his shoulder at the same time, "phone!"

He must be doing this to piss John off now. He gave up and leaned across his slumbering lover grabbing the source of his bad mood.

"What?" he demanded, pressing the phone to his ear.

"Urm, John?" Lestrade sounded unsure.

"Yes, what?" John was not in the mood for this.

"Is everything okay? Where's Sherlock?"

"Sleeping. Lucky bastard. What were you calling about?" John demanded, finding the mundane questions increasingly boring.

"Okay, well we've brought in the people he wanted to talk to, he said he'd be here to interview them."

"I'm sure he did. He often says things and doesn't stick to his word, never fear Lestrade he will be dragged in kicking and screaming if need be."

"I'm sure that won't be necessary..." Lestrade trailed off, keen to get out of this conversation.

"We'll see. I'm sure I'll be seeing you shortly, Lestrade. Goodbye." John swiftly hung up, dropped the phone back onto the bedside table and brought his lips close to Sherlock's ear.

"Sherlock," he whispered, "wake up."

Sherlock mumbled sleepily.

John kept his lips by Sherlock's ear, but this time let out an almighty, "SHERLOCK! WAKE UP, NOW!" and was not surprised when the Consulting Detective nearly fell off the bed.

John pulled backwards, to avoid the flailing gangly arms, Sherlock's wild eyes and curls turned towards him, mouth set in a murderous line.

"Good morning, my little ray of sunshine, I was wondering when you'd be joining me in the land of the living," John was speaking in a sickly sweet manner, "its just I was woken by a call from our good friends at Scotland yard, who are waiting for you to get off your arse and go and interview some suspects." Awareness dawned on Sherlock's face.

"Ringing some bells then?" John continued.

Sherlock ignored the question, in favour of stepping out of the bed and stretching as he approached the large wardrobe they shared.

"I'm sorry, I thought I asked a question." John was swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, ready to be getting up now.

"Yes, but you are clearly in no mood to hear my reply, so please don't try and draw me into your silly little domestic." Sherlock replied curtly.

"You are a bastard you know that," John shoved past Sherlock, grabbing the first outfit he touched and swiftly exiting the room.

"Drama queen." Sherlock muttered as John stepped out of the door.

"You'll regret that," John warned from the landing.

* * *

The taxi ride had been frosty and silent. Even the driver had appeared tense, relaxing as soon as the men exited, John left Sherlock to pay for once, and headed towards the entrance of Scotland Yard.

"John!" Sherlock called, speeding to catch up, "must you continue to be so dramatic."

"Sherlock, must you continue to be such an arse?" John countered.

Sherlock sighed and headed towards Lestrade who he had just spotted. Lestrade visibly tensed up, not sure if he could deal with these two having a domestic today.


	2. Chapter 2

John and Sherlock were seated opposite Lestrade at his desk. They were scowling and being very careful not to look at one another. Lestrade was glancing between the two, visibly angry and flustered looking where to begin.

"Look lads, you aren't allowed to do that kind of thing, I know your basically free lance, and you are a great help here at the Yard. Nevertheless, it is not appropriate," he focused his stare on Sherlock's carefully composed expression of indifference, "to start asking a suspect whether they agree with you or your boyfriend in your little domestic."

"Fiancée, Lestrade, John is my fiancée." Sherlock corrected with a sigh.

"Oh, is he?" John looked at Sherlock for the first time since they'd been in the room, "because usually when two people are engaged they have an equal level of respect for each other, not just take all they can and not give anything back."

"You think I'm not giving anything back in this relationship?" Sherlock glared at John.

"That's how it feels right now." John stated.

"You are as ever incorrect, John. I do more than you know in this relationship, you just take it all for granted because you think you are some guardian angel for me sent from heaven above!"

"Hardly! Name one thing you've done for me in the past week, which shows you were giving something back in this relationship."

"I gave you that blow job on Tuesday after you'd thrown Mycroft out."

Well shit, John did remember that, and right now, in Lestrade office was not the time to get a hard on.

"Sherlock!" John glanced at Lestrade, who was looking as uncomfortable as John felt.

"What? I did."

"Yes I know you did, but that wasn't really something you needed to share."

"Yes, it was, it was exactly what I needed to share, you just asked me to share an example of me putting back into our relationship and I did, and now you're complaining about that." Sherlock looked at Lestrade, who was looking at the corner of his desk with startling intensity, "You heard him didn't you Lestrade, do you see what I have to put up with?"

"I don't want to get involved to be honest..."

"Yes, stop dragging him into this Sherlock!"

"I wasn't dragging him into this! He invited himself into it, by calling us in here."

Lestrade interrupted, "Hold on. You were brought in here for you frankly appalling behaviour in the interview room, not for relationship counselling."

John caught the catch in Sherlock's breath, and the new degree of stiffness to his posture. This wasn't right, what had Lestrade said that brought on this reaction? John needed to get Sherlock out and into 221B so they could talk properly instead of shout.

"Yes, we're very sorry and so we'll leave now," John began to stand, stepping towards Sherlock, "come on love, let's go home, yeah?"

Sherlock appeared to come back to the present a little, enough for john to get him out of Scotland Yard and into a taxi.

John looked at Sherlock's face, worried by the distance in his stare, the cold in his eyes. He reached over to rest a hand on Sherlock's thigh, smoothing small, reassuring circles with his thumb.

"Its okay love, whatever it is, you can tell me okay, come on, what's up?" John spoke soothingly, not really expecting an answer, just wanting to remind Sherlock that he was still with him – that he wasn't going anywhere.

The cab pulled up in front of their home, and John paid, then guided a still distant Sherlock up to their flat, closing the door softly behind him. He began to strip himself of his coat and shoes, and was about to help Sherlock remove his own, when the taller man attached his lips to John's.

John froze, confused, for all of two seconds, before kissing back, staying gentle so as not to dominate Sherlock, who was clearly going through some emotional stress that he needed John's help with. The long white fingers began to stroke along John's chest, skimming the buttons of his shirt, and beginning to fiddle with them and undo them. John reached up, stroking Sherlock's face, then moving his hands to the back of his lovers head and entwining his fingers.

Sherlock pulled back slightly, still remaining close enough for their lips to brush as he spoke, "John, I'm sorry. I am, it's my fault, but we're okay aren't we? Please... John, please don't leave me, I need you." Sherlock's eyes closed and he leaned his forehead against John's, defeated and vulnerable.

John nudged Sherlock's face up, waiting for Sherlock to open his eyes before he began speaking, "Listen to me Sherlock, I am not leaving you, ever. Especially not over something as trivial as milk, couples fight okay, that's just what happens. We're both a bit stressed, what with the wedding and everything. It's perfectly normal. I love you, okay, you're not getting rid of me that easily."

"John," Sherlock pressed a kiss to John's face, "I love you, I'm sorry."

"We're fine Sherlock, this fight is ridiculous, it's over now, no point crying over nonexistent milk, eh."

Sherlock and John both grinned at the bad joke, relief washing over them as the tension of the past few days drained away. Then their lips were joined again, more forceful this time, their moths opened for one another, pressing tongues into the others mouth, desperate to be closer. There were too many clothes, and Sherlock set back to work on Johns buttons, and John pushed Sherlock's coat from his shoulders, then stroked down his lovers long, lean torso, and pulled his fitted shit from this trousers.

As Sherlock managed to release John from his shirt, he began guiding him towards their room, setting to work on John's belt as they moved. John let himself be led, preoccupied with trying to release Sherlock from all of his clothes.

Sherlock kicked his shoes off, not bothering to check where they landed, too caught up in pushing open their bedroom door and moving John inside. As soon as they were inside the race to be out of their clothes became more frantic, leaving each other to deal with their own clothes for speed, they were naked in no time, pressed back against each other, erections brushing, caused Sherlock to jerk his hips involuntarily.

"John." He whispered.

"Sherlock, I'm here." John murmured back tenderly.

They fell onto their bed, kissing as they moved towards the centre.

Sherlock stroked John's face, down his neck and towards that gorgeous arse. He brought both hands around to grip it, causing John to moan softly.

"John, I need you, in me." Sherlock gasped into John's ear. John nodded, knowing this would be quick for them both. He leaned back and straddled Sherlock's hips on his knees, taking in the beautiful man in front of him, before he reached down and gently touched Sherlock's straining erection. Sherlock groaned and jerked his hips. "John – need you!"

John smirked and settled himself backwards, reaching towards the bedside table and pulling out a drawer before he reached in and pulled out a small bottle of lube. He flicked the cap open, smoothing some onto his index and middle fingers then dropped the bottle onto Sherlock's stomach.

He moved backwards, opening Sherlock's legs up a little more, and sliding his lovers' feet up so that his knees were bent. Then he placed his fingers gently into the cleft of Sherlock's arse and stoked finding his entrance he pushed in deeper, finding his lover to already be loose he reached for more lube ready to insert more fingers, steadily working the ones already inside of him.

Sherlock moaned and writhed, wanting more, want John inside of him.

"John," he gabbled, "more, I'm ready, please more, you, I want you."

John paused, he didn't want to hurt Sherlock, but he was pretty desperate too, he made his decision on started coating his cock in lube when Sherlock began moaning his name again.

Carefully, John lifted Sherlock's hips, dragging a pillow beneath them, and then he brought Sherlock's right leg up to rest against his good shoulder, hooking the knee over it. Then he leaned forward, guiding himself into Sherlock, and gave a gentle push, fully inserting himself slowly.

His head dropped into the space between Sherlock's neck and shoulder, inhaling the beautiful smell of his fiancée, he didn't move for a moment, letting Sherlock and himself adjust.

"Now, John, move." Sherlock demanded, breathless.

John began to move his hips in slow, shallow thrusts, not wanting to overwhelm or hurt Sherlock.

"More John, deeper, harder, more, please!"

John picked up the pace, resting himself on his elbows more steadily and pushing himself deeper, then he began focussing on trying to hit Sherlock's prostate. He knew he had a good pattern going when Sherlock let out a deep groan, he knew he'd found the prostate from the scream that followed shortly after.

John felt a tight coiling in his lower belly, he knew he was close, but he wanted Sherlock to be there before him.

"Sherlock, I'm close..."

"I know, me too, I can't hold on, oh god!" Sherlock moaned, thrashing his head from side to side, before he gave a strong jerk, stuttered, his eyes rolled slightly, and then he came, spurting across himself and John.

John slowed a little as Sherlock came down from his orgasm, waiting for Sherlock to meet his eyes, before he let himself go and came quite quickly afterwards, with a shout of "Sherlock!"

As John came, he shuddered and Sherlock stroked his hair and shoulders gently, whispering sweet nothings to him. John stayed as he was for some time, before pulling himself out and falling onto his side, staying close to Sherlock, who kept his arms wrapped around John the entire time.

John nestled down against Sherlock, exhaustion overwhelming him. He placed a gentle kiss into Sherlock's shoulder, and received a kiss into his own hair from Sherlock.

"You should clean yourself up, can't be comfortable covered in that. " John murmured sleepily.

"Hmm." Sherlock hummed back, reaching out and grabbing the first thing he touched – Johns trousers – and wiping his stomach with them, then settling back down quickly.

"I will expect a new pair if those are ruined," John whispered, smiling.

Sherlock leaned his head of curls against John's short, sandy hair, already drifting off.

"Goodnight love." John sighed, and they drifted off next to each other content and blissfully happy.

John couldn't be sure, but he thought he heard Sherlock murmur something about 'counselling' and 'never again' but he was too far gone to ask and by the time he woke up the next morning the events of the past few days were closed off. No point crying over nonexistent milk.


End file.
